


Bind Me to You

by Sparcina



Series: Drawn Together (Stony variations) [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, And Tony rides his cock, Birthday Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Sex in the lab, Steve gets tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: “You’re tied up, so you won’t have to do anything. But if you’re up to it… I would like to fuck myself on your cock.”Steve’s eyes widened. Tony chased after his wanton moan, bruising his lips against his as one hand took hold of a shoulder and held on for dear life. Their tongues met and battled. Tony didn’t let himself hesitate and sucked on Steve’s, giving him more food for fantasies.“Please,” he crooned against his lips.It was Steve’s birthday, but he knew, he just knew, that they would both enjoy this.Steve’s eyes were completely blown when he found the air to speak again. “Do it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!

Tony Stark's days followed one another in constant unpredictability, alternating between bouts of sleep on various pieces of furniture–mostly designed for other purposes–and long nights of work locked up in the company of metal, palladium and extravagant artifacts.

Oh, and thoughts of Steve. Those never strayed very far, whatever the situation–he had quite a collection of 'distraction scars' attesting to that. 

“Dum-E, bring me the… no, not that one!”

He sighed and went to grab the tool by himself. Ever since his last upgrade, Dum-E had stopped threatening his every experience with a fire extinguisher. The price, however, seemed a bit too high in view of the resultant confusion.

Tony rubbed his eyes, considering a quick nap on the worn-out couch in the back of his lab. He should give in before doing something stupid, like forgetting to turn off part of the current experiment and blowing himself to bits. He couldn't quite recall the number of times Steve had to stitch back his head, slap him back to consciousness–those were the good times–or kneel by his side, simultaneously chiding him and comforting him, while he was throwing up.

Steve… The reason behind the folly. The iron hand of management under the velvet glove of dashing altruism.

He checked back in the real world and adjusted a light bud that was flashing ominously. Where was Dum-E–the competent version, anyway–when he was needed?

Oh, yeah. Upgraded for having doused him one time too many with his favorite toy. Hell, he hadn't been on fire. Just a couple of blue flames had never hurt anybody... And yet Steve tended to agree with the little bastard.

 _Damn_. 

Funny how his thoughts kept circling back to Steve. Perhaps ‘pathetic’ would be more appropriate, though. The man was so clearly better than him–more handsome, more courageous, more generous, more everything–that he felt guilty just thinking about him.

And that was saying nothing of the guilt trips after a very, very enjoyable jerking session. No, now wasn’t the time to think about how _large_ Steve’s hands were compared to his, how fucking amazing it would feel to have those fingers stretch his ass, one, two, three, touching him from the inside, _claiming_ him, he was so very sure Steve would find his prostate in no time and then his cock–he licked his lips–would replace those fingers and fill him up, so deep, so long, he wouldn't be able to sit in the morning, and…

"Anthony Stark!"

_Whoops!_

Every time Steve used his full name, Tony knew to hide in the metal field of his laboratory, and today was  _so_ not going to be an exception. He quickly dove into a pool of twisted copper cables and hoped to shrink on the spot. Damn, he should have stolen Hank’s suit.

"Anthony Edward Stark! Show your sorry ass right now!"

Was he sorry? Should he be sorry? What did he do again–he did so many things in a day that he couldn’t possibly be held accountable for every little mistake here and there, right?

Right? Right.

He rapidly searched his memory for the events of the last seventy-two hours, but apart from a new hole in the wall and minor damage to his  _own_  head, thank you very much, he hadn't caused any major catastrophe that would explain the Captain’s current mood.

He watched through a hole in the cables the very masculine–mouth-watering, sublime–silhouette approaching in the dimmed light of his laboratory. At least, Jarvis had had enough sense to adjust the luminosity to the threatening situation. It was good that his AI understood that he, too, could get an upgrade. Or a downgrade, if it came to that.

"Why is Steve mad?" he asked the AI in a rough whisper.

"I believe you know the reason already," retorted Jarvis in an equally low voice.

Smartass. Well, he could only blame himself and his stupid sense of humor.

"You better start talking before I dismantle you," he groaned a bit too loud.

A hand loomed over his hidden place and grabbed him by his black-tainted, grease-stained collar. A shiver ran up his spine, tingling deliciously between his legs.

 _You, down!_ he thought fiercely. Fantasies and conflicts didn’t work well together.

"Hey, Steve," he laughed with a twinge of uncertainty. "Did I ever tell you how lovely you look in that suit?” _Shut up, Stark._ But really, his mouth had a brain of its own. “Hm, I mean stunning, because seriously, ‘lovely’ is so 2016…”

Steve's glare was increasingly intimidating.

"You had an appointment.  _Six hours_ ago, Tony."

Tony went for innocent. He didn’t do innocent very well, and they both knew it.

"Would that be with the engineering comity?"

He gasped as Steve dropped him among the copper cables.

"Not exactly." His icy tone sent another kind of shiver through his body. "For the third year in a row, you merely promised you would eat with me, and not pass out in your lab from overworking. For my birthday."

Tony looked up at him. Winced. Averted his gaze and lifted his chin again.

Steve looked positively splendorous. He  _had_  remembered his promise, right until the last minute, just like he had for the past two years. He appreciated Steve, he really did. To organize a dinner with him, to shower him with attention and presents, both money-acquired and emotionally-invested, would be the perfect way to thank him for everything he had done for him–and all the things he didn’t know he did for him, like that endless stream of wet dreams material…

But Tony couldn't ask for this. Steve deserved better than him, he deserved a woman or a man who wasn't eyes and brains deep into his own world, someone who could make time for him outside excessive parties and fights all over the world.

It didn't help that Steve was at least a little bit infatuated with him—he would be a fool not to have noticed it—and it certainly didn't, but really  _didn't_  help that he intimidated him in a way that made it impossible for Tony to tell him to go look somewhere else for his own sake. His beauty, body and mind, also offered a challenge he couldn't face with his usual arsenal. His own infatuation was growing every day, and so was the amount of used Kleenex in the garbage bin. God, he was such a mess.

Steve was still looking at him with daggers in his eyes. Tony drew a deep breath.

_You can do it, just stop thinking about…_

"Look, Steve.” He tried to clean his hands on his pants, but said pants were even more due for washing, so he quickly stopped. “I'm sorry I sort of forgot… again. I didn't want to hurt your feelings; hell, I know you deserve so much more than what I can offer you…” _Whoops!_ Here went his independent mouth again, damn it. “…and if I was a better man I would have–"

"Oh, just shut up, Tony."

Steve's lips somehow ended right on his, soft, luscious and sweet. Tony tasted honey and coffee, and under it, the raw zest of longing. He gasped as two warm–huge, let’s not forget–hands set on his oil-tainted shoulders. Sharp nails dug into his flesh, drawing a moan out of his throat.

_Fuck._

He fisted his hands on those impossibly narrow hips and walked Steve backward, until the man’s very fine ass hit the edge of one very occupied desk.

It was his birthday, not his, he reminded himself. Quite unwillingly, he took a step back, smiling at Steve's protesting moans. He felt like two different shades of asshole and just couldn’t help it.

"Steve…"

He refused to look at him, eyes cast down on the dirty floor. His cheeks showed an interesting shade of red, but for the life of him, Tony couldn't say if it was from shyness or enthusiasm. He hoped for option two. And then again, maybe that wasn’t wise. But when had anybody given him that particular compliment anyway?

"Look, Steve.” He gulped, clenching and unclenching his hands at his side. “I didn't forget your birthday, I… I just…"

He wanted to bang his head on the nearest wall. Really. Anthony Stark, head of SI, reduced to blabbering by a man. A gorgeous, perfect man, but still… He shook his head, trying to put some order back in that head of his.

"I don't know what I should give you," he finally said in a rush, his own cheek traitorously glowing. "I… I just want you to be happy, and I don’t know what to do."

 _Here you go, Stark. Fan-fucking-tastic._ He would like to get on fire right now. In the direct vicinity of an old-fashioned Dum-E. Disappearing sounded good. Instantaneous combustion was the new black.

"Really?"

Steve's expression of surprise hurt a little. Tony cleared his throat.

"Of course I want you to! It might not look like it, but… Don't sneer at me!"

His mocking smile made him nervous. He buried his hands in his pockets in a defensive gesture and kicked a loose screw. Dum-E went after it. If it had had a tail, it would have wiggled. 

"You know what you could do to make me happy?” Steve said in a soft voice, crossing those big, muscular arms, that Tony wanted to worship. “It is something really simple, that doesn't even require you to leave your dear lab."

Tony’s breath hitched. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember _why_ he ought to have such a high I.Q. He wished he could run after the screw himself instead of standing like an awkward infatuated teenager.

Steve just smiled, raising one finger to his mouth.

_Finger… Ass… Cut it!_

That must have been some disturbing expression he was wearing, because Steve blushed fiercely. 

"I didn't… It…"

"Just tell me what you wish, and you shall have it."

Steve blushed even harder. Tony began to think it was a very bad idea to let that happen–a really  _good_ idea, intervened his second brain with a rush of blood–but then Steve surprised him.

Three words.

Tony just stared at the copper cables, unable to form a single worthy sentence, be it in his own mind. He felt desire swelling from the tip of his toes and spread to every single end of his thoroughly messed hair. Lust was surging forward in his veins, white-hot burning with adrenaline, ridiculously powerful and intoxicating. Urging him to move. Urging him to do something, anything, to get intimately acquainted with Perfection over there.

To kiss him.

To devour him.

To _beg_.

He staggered and used the dizziness as an excuse to get closer.

_Oh my God._

"You want me to… tie you up?" His voice sounded hoarse. The fact that he could utter it at all was nothing short of a miracle. His body was coursing with electrical anticipation, and it took all his might not to do exactly what the dainty Captain had requested, and then to kiss him all over, lose himself in the smell of his skin and the song of his orders, seriously, that dominant kink he credited Steve with in his head was getting him in so much trouble…

_Mouth… ass… on my knees… cock… God damn it!_

Steve pursed lips lips, gaze carefully averted, hands clasped down on his thighs. "That's the… hum… gist of it."

*

The ardent hunger in Tony's eyes, the way it made his genius' eyes sparkle with something so primal it failed to submit to words, made something in Steve's belly tighten. His hands shook, and his breath had gone from steady to short, fast gasps that spoke of fear and arousal. He was hard, and ashamed, and then perfectly happy because the low groan that had just left Tony’s mouth was a treat to savor. He could come on the spot, if he let himself. So he kept his hands out of Danger Zone.

"To-Tony.”

"Yes?"

One calloused hand closed on his shoulder, sending waves of thirst down his throat. He couldn't meet his eyes.

"Do you… know, what… I… It's to say, that…"

"Steve."

That hand left a burning trail along his jaw. This time, when Steve met his eyes, he let out a strangled moan he couldn’t have been able to suppress, had his life depended on it. Tony's whole body shifted, pulsing with the need to please.

He could see it, feel it like the apple of knowledge settling deep into his belly. They would speak of this later. Would do this later. But for now…

Tony shifted against him, bringing their groins together. Steve felt himself go blind for a moment. It had been so long that he had felt this, and the want had tugged at him relentlessly ever since he had met that man… genius, fantastic, courageous wonder of a man…

"Tell me how you wish me to bind you."

Steve swallowed, and Tony, fascinated, looked at the shyness travelling down his throat.

"I want you to make me feel… safe," he said between gasps, as Tony _smirked_ , rutting deliriously sensuously against him, their bodies plastered from head to toe together.  "Can you… Can you do that?"

There it was, again: Tony wanted to drop on his knees and blow him, bondage included.

"Give me your wrists, Sir."

In a blink, Tony had the strong alabaster wrists of the Captain safely bound to each other. He brought his hands to his mouth and kissed each finger, brushing them with his goatee. Steve writhed slightly, his eyelids already half shut.

"To-Tony…"

"Shh…" He laid a kiss on his bound wrists, smiling broadly. "I will make you feel safe." _And so fucking good._

The temperature rapidly increased. Tony had Steve sit on his working table, and even though he protested at his method of cleaning the surface–slinging everything on the floor, blue-prints and expensive tools included–he quickly found himself forced to silence as Tony began to draw copper motives on his body. He still had all his clothes on, but he couldn't help but feel naked under the pressure of those hands and eyes working on him. Working him up. He was sweating, deliciously aware of every nerve ending bursting in his body. A shiver escaped him as Tony licked up a beam of sweat up his collarbone. He arched on the table, legs spread wide, and let his head fall back, unconsciously exposing his throat. Tony's groan made him gasp.

His rational mind was in slivers.

"Oh, Steve…"

"I didn't know you could… tie someone up so well," he let out in a hesitant whisper.

Tony raised his chin, locking gazes with him. Steve wanted to fill that mouth with his tongue, and then some more.

"Only you shall I revere with such design," he crooned as he slid another length of cable between his pectorals. "Only you, Steve."

He felt dizzy with rapture. Every new knot had him feeling better, every touch of Tony's hands safer. His goatee brushed along one tight, heading north.

"Tell me if I should stop-"

"Don’t!”

Tony had him naked from the waist up in record time. Kneeling in front of him, he gathered his pulsing cock and freed it, exposing him to the wet hotness of his tongue. Steve immediately lifted a hand to his lips, biting on his palm to delay the inevitable.

Tony’s head bobbed over him, sucking and humming and _perfect._ The first breath he drew in made him lightheaded; the second, addicted.

*

_Please fuck me before I go crazy._

Those words kept flashing in Tony’s mind as he sucked that wonderful cock time and time again. His gag reflex had gone out of town to accommodate Steve, so he took him as deep as was biologically feasible and relished on those sounds that kept complimenting him. He tasted and touched and would have already come into his pants if he hadn’t had his mind set on another kind of release.

With a last kiss to the leaking head of Steve’s cock, he got to his feet, drawing blue eyes to his lips. He knew he looked great from having a cock in his mouth.

“You’re tied up, so you won’t have to do anything. But if you’re up to it… I would like to fuck myself on your cock.”

Steve’s eyes widened. Tony chased after his wanton moan, bruising his lips against his as one hand took hold of a shoulder and held on for dear life. Their tongues met and battled. Tony didn’t let himself hesitate and sucked on Steve’s, giving him more food for fantasies.

“Please,” he crooned against his lips.

It was Steve’s birthday, but he knew, he just knew, that they would both enjoy this.

Steve’s eyes were completely blown when he found the air to speak again. “Do it.”

A little preparation would have been nice, but Tony wanted that cock _right now_ , and he had always been bad at waiting. He turned around, shimmied out of his pants, and lowered his ass towards the hard length profusely coated with saliva.

Steve jerked when they met. Tony bit down his lip and sank down on him, so very slowly, savoring the burnt and anticipating the pleasure he knew would come. Steve couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except let Tony take his pleasure, _gift him with pleasure_ , and the sheer kinkiness of the act had Tony spread his cheeks to better accommodate Steve.

Damn, it hurt. But he wanted it so much his brain convinced him otherwise. 

“Tony, we should…”

“God, that feels so fucking good.”

And he wasn’t lying. He moved down until Steve was balls deep into him, stretching him to the point of breaking. Tony braced himself on the table behind him, his pinkies against Steve’s thumbs, and started a slow, erotic ascent on his large cock. It tingled all over.

"Fuck."

He sank down again, slowly, reverently, wondering how he could have kept his ass free of Steve’s cock for so long. The though sped up the rhythm until the time between two slaps of wet flesh barely existed anymore. He sank and sank and fucked himself again and again, telling Steve in an increasingly rough voice how good it felt to welcome his cock, how he would love to blow him again, and swallow everything, how he couldn’t wait to host his fingers beside his cock, how he wished to be pinned down by him, and strangled, and slapped, and then he just shut up because it was too much truth, too fast, and he was coming with a shout.

Steve filled him up with his seed a mere second later, biting down on his shoulder. Shaking from the exertion, Tony reached for Steve’s hand and squeezed it gently. Somehow, he also managed to twist his neck to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

“If you like, I can leave you like this, but I would understand if you wanted a shower, and I…”

“Thank you, Tony.” The kiss was offered back. 

Dum-E had returned without a noise, and was presently waiving the screw with little noises of what could only be pride. Tony tried to ignore it, but the affection blooming into his chest apparently extended to everything in the Tower.

“Thank _you,_ Steve. By the way, I love your cock.”

He had wanted to say something else, but that could wait. Tony kissed him again, a light press of lips that, he hoped, conveyed the extent of his regard.

He also considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could cherish Steve Rogers this way every year.

And more frequently, if he so desired.


End file.
